Scroll Down …ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ you but fear and common sense.
Miss Robin and I are back together. Well, as together as that chick gets. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good thing. Very good, but, sometimes a bit unfullfilling. I assessed the pro’s and cons and went in for another round of heartache.
We spent all day Sunday together, we just do a lot a little quirky things, string ‘em all together, call it a date. We ended up back at my place with a bottle of Russian Vodka, streaming Netflix, and unbridled enthusiasm. Don’t worry gang, I wasn’t drinking. I do, however, love the smell of Russian Vodka on the breath of a woman I am about to violate. Call me crazy. But, just be sure and call.
Know what I mean.
After extensive prayer, talks with friends and family etc…We all decided (including the Good Lord) that either there was just no figuring Miss Robin out or that the root cause of the problem most likely resided within me.
I’m having good luck fixing things from the inside. My inside. I feel positive and happy. I know Miss Robin woke up happy this morning. I made sure of it.
I’m going to keep things light. Except for the “soup boning” but, that’s to be expected. Pedro is Pedro, after all.
Allright, I’m going to cut my fingernails, tune my guitar to “open D”, and then attempt to mentally prepare myself for eight hours of mind numbing hand to mouth subsistence employment. You kids buck up and learn a hobby or something. Anything. I’m gonna get some coffee.
New girlfriend too, I’m afraid. Well, shopping for one anyhow.
Maybe, I am a womanizer. It’s been said of me.
Miss Robin said it on our first date. I told her I was just looking for love. I wasn’t lying.
I grew to love her. She was never able to use those words herself. She’s single again now. That happens to people that can’t love. I’m pretty sure she loved me though, but, she couldn’t say it.
She loved everything else, if the L-word was maple syrup she’d be dead of consumption by now. She loved everything, those shoes, the receptionist at Eyeworld, the Minnesota Vikings…everything, just not me. That word could not be used in relationship to her and I.
Good luck kid. I got a six month limit on that shit. She ran outta time.
Here’s the kicker, the very first date I went on coming out of all this…met the nicest woman. She digs me too. Who wouldn’t though?
She’s cute, funny, a great cook, makes Saint Francis look like a piker she’s so good to animals. She’s a little kooky, but, I love that. That’s the gold.
She’s making me dinner Sunday night…woo hoo
Update: dumped her ass too…”I’m not looking for a serious relationship”
are these broads all on the same ‘effing team or what?
Got the day off. I was over to Miss Robin’s last night.
I quit drinking a while back, but, as she has never had the affliction, there was no need to ask her to change her holiday regimen, right? Her routine on this New Years Eve consisted of several shots of New Amsterdam Vodka in a chilled shot glass. She’s not exactly what you would call a professional in that regard, so, the effects took a little while.
Anyhow, I read the Parade magazine leftover from last Sunday and scraped cream corn off the countertop with my fingernail biding my time and waiting for her to get about half lit, then, I popped the question.
I asked her if she loved me.
Drunk, she said no. Now, that’s an egg of a different color.
It wasn’t the answer that shocked me, it was the speed at which it was delivered. She didn’t even draw a breath first. It was athletic, truly athletic.
And the thing is…I’m very loveable, I work at it.
Then, as I was doing wash at the laundrymat this morning I got an e-mail suggesting several great condos to look at.
Evidently, we’re not shacking up together either.
This is hard to relate in a post, I know, but, the thing is…this chick digs me, it’s obvious. I don’t know what to do, honestly.
I feel like peeling out of this parking lot.
Maybe I just will.
I taught myself how to play “Never going back again” this week. Lindsey Buckingham’s great fingerpicking hit from Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumours” albumn. How appropriate.
It’s in the Wahine tuning…Wah hee nee….that means womans tuning, it’s a Hawaiian thing. The last sovereign queen of the island was a slack key guitar player. Did you guys know that?
Pedro Fun Fact.
I’m a little confused tonight. Sometimes, it seems like I might as well just give up on women. They sure give up on me easy, that’s for sure. I just spent two days over at Miss Robins place…just the two of us and a couple of dogs, the smaller one wearing a tiny tube stocking Santa suit. It was festive, I won’t lie to you. I’m starting to get a little sweet on that dog.
Miss Robin and I, we’re quite fond of each other, but, sometimes the slumber parties end badly for me. Really badly.
She gets fidgety in bed and can’t sleep and is not so pleasant to be around, truth be told. Last night was one of those nights. After spending two nice days in our own private winter wonderland and then waking up Christmas morning and shredding through a quite respectable amount of gift wrap and sissored ribbon it was a quite horrific way to terminate the proceedings.
I lodged a formal complaint. Nothing binding or actionable, but, a complaint nonetheless. At first, she wanted to vindicate herself and explain, now, she’s just gone underground, as is her habit. I have to make a choice, do I make the premptive breakup move myself or fallback and let it happen to me?
I think I’ll be a gentleman this time, I don’t think that there is any salvaging this though. I could be wrong, but, I doubt it.
I told her I loved her this morning, I didn’t get it back. I knew she didn’t want to hear that. That’s why I did it. I’m complicated. Dark.
She does love me too, that’s the curious thing. Only decent woman that I’ve found this year. I like everything about her…except that fidgety business, I’m a Cancer, I take stuff like that to heart. It’s not a choice, it’s just the way I’m wired. I don’t mind.
I always wonder why everyone else isn’t more like me. If I love you, you’re going to know it, that’s for sure.
Well, I feel better now. You kids get some sleep….Pedro
If I may be so bold as to address myself as “Pedro”
My new squeeze says I gotta be white now. That’s okay, I wrang about as much good out of brown as there probably existed in the free world. At least as much as was made available to me. I still put red chile on my dressing at Thanksgiving Two at Cynthia C’s place though.
She’s put on a couple of pounds. Thank God.
I was able to resist those eyes. That legendary Spanish beauty… No small feat, believe me. What an angel. She doesn’t love me anymore. I could tell. It was mutual, it might sound strange, but, that part was quite comforting.
I left early and went home and sprayed Kiwi protectorant on my new boots before the snow. That was comforting too.
My new girlfriend just sent me a text, she says she’s “to to tired” to come over.
She’s not the spelling queen that I’d hoped she might be. She writes legal briefs. Let’s hope they are short indeed.
Honest to God, I don’t remember a thing about last Christmas except that Kit Kit and I had started talking. Well, she was doing most of the talking. She can be a little wordy. A little too smart for her own good that one. A good egg though.
I hope I wasn’t drinking. I don’t think I was. I’ll check my bank statements.
Nobody got me nothing. That much I know.
Well, Kit Kit gave up her phone number provided I promised to never actually call and engage in conversation.
It was still nice….. Kinda.
Jingle jingle jingle.
I write all this stuff, every post. Every stinkin’ one of ‘em. Good ones, bad ones. Even posts with chicken pox.
Try putting that magic back in the box. Can’t be done.
Had Thanksgiving dinner at my new girlfriends house yesterday. We got up early to put the bird in the oven….put the soupbone in hours earlier…slumber party.
Anyhow, I couldn’t help but notice as I was sitting at my island barstool perch watching her robotic prep routine, that, apparently, the soaking wet silhouette outline of the upstairs bathtub had begun manifesting itself on the kitchen ceiling.
I walked over to investigate. I looked up. I squinted my Pedro eyes. A drip hit me squarely in the forehead. She had a problem. I had a problem.
Here’s my prescient advice. Think sprawling ranch style next time. Stairs are cool, no doubt about it, but, that guy in the one story ain’t running to Walmart Thankgiving morning for a new flexible 3/8 inch supply line to save a four thousand dollar ceiling, he’s just out a particle board cabinet bottom and a compromised tall can of comet.
I got up early. Making my world famous macaroni salad. Heading over to my old girlfriends Cynthia’s place mid morning. Going to see if we really can… “just be friends” I’m optimistic. I got 36 bucks invested in a Honey Baked Ham, a real one. Like I say, I’m commited. “Nobody gets hurt on team Pedro”
Not if I can help it.
If you play things right, life’s not so bad. It really ain’t…..Pedro
Wow, listening to some David Grisman Quintet stuff. Mandolin music. Pedro gives the boys two brown thumbs up. Did I mention that I love my new Mini Jambox bluetooth speaker. I believe I did.
A little gift from me to me. I think I’ve earned it.
I was going to sell my mandolin too. Not now. I’m gonna superglue my cracked digits back together and press on. Practice makes perfect.
Going to shoot over to Miss Robin’s nest later. We’re renovating the bathroom downstairs. As far as boyfriends go, you could do worse than me.
I know what you’re thinking.
Her girl parts will heal…eventually.